


The Ninety Ninth Precinct v. Jake's Playlist

by VermeilH20



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Funny, Humor, I don't know what possessed me to attempt this, Slice of Life, because we know jake probably has them all, each one is based on a different taylor swift song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-10-06 05:16:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17339255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VermeilH20/pseuds/VermeilH20
Summary: Okay, so Taylor Swift has like 120 songs or something? And I'm going to try and write fics for each of them? Because I have no life :)(These are most definitely not in chronological order, so I'm just going add the time in the notes for each "chapter")Brace yourselves.





	1. The Way I Loved You

**Author's Note:**

> Sometime in Season 1.

It was a slow day at the nine-nine. Contrary to popular belief, not every day involved high-speed car chases and diamond heists. Some days were just…work. Not that anyone was complaining. The less crime on the streets the better. Besides, days like this gave everyone a chance to catch up on other things. Rosa and Boyle were researching something relating to a new case, Terry was filing employee evaluations and Gina was on her phone playing some new game.

Actually, that last one wasn’t all that different from what she did every other day. Good old Gina. Always predictable. Amy smiled and shook her head at the occasional tinny sound that came from the game. It had annoyed her no end when Gina had first started, how she never seemed to care about work. But over the past years, she had realized that for all her nonchalance, Gina was one of the most trustworthy people she knew. The civilian admin always came through when it mattered.

Amy was just about to save a report when the timer on her computer ran out. She had set an alarm that would notify her every thirty minutes. She had read that the best way to prevent screen fatigue was to take five to ten minute breaks every half an hour spent on the computer. Apparently, it also increased productivity. She remembered how impressed Captain Holt had been when she showed him the research. He had immediately set a timer on his own laptop. She had essentially mentored her mentor! Amy still got a rush of pride thinking about it. 

“Oh my god, Santiago. Are you watching porn at work?” Amy screamed when the disembodied voice came from her right, startling everyone. She blushed fiercely as the entire nine-nine stared at her.

“Peralta, I will kill you.” She swiveled around, glared at the walkie-talkie on her desk, then scowled at the detective responsible for the scare. The idiot was standing five feet behind her, sniggering. “What the hell?”

“What’s up with the pop-up windows?” Jake asked, turning the question back around.

“For your information, this is a timer. It reminds me to take breaks from the computer.” She very obviously scanned his body up and down. “Some of us actually try to be healthy.”

“Ouch, Santiago. I’m wounded.” He held his hand against his heart, mock-fainting. “Catch me Terry!”

“NO! Holding coffee!” The sergeant groaned as his reusable ceramic mug shattered on the precinct linoleum. “Come on man, that’s the third one!”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Jake promised, batting his lashes up at Terry. “Anything for my savior.”

Terry sighed and lowered Jake a foot off the ground before dropping him. “Catch your own damn self next time.”

“You know you love me!” Jake called behind him.

This was the exact moment that Taylor Swift’s “The Way I Loved You” begins playing. The loud music sounded through the precinct, and Amy noticed that two of the perps were bobbing their heads to the music.

Captain Holt emerged from his office. “What is that infernal racket?” He thundered, looking annoyed. Amy knew all of Holt’s expressions by heart. “Which one of you is responsible for this?”

“Yup, that would be me.” Jake scrambled off the floor and dove for his phone. The two dancing perps groaned when the music ended. “Heeey. Now’s not a good time. I’m at work. Yeah. Bye!” He had ended the call in less time than it took to blink. “Sorry everyone, won’t happen again.” He spun in place, addressing the entire bullpen. Holt nodded, then retreated back into his office.

As soon as the door shut, Jake dropped the contrite act. “Of course Holt doesn’t like Taylor Swift. Holt doesn’t like anything fun.” He snorted. “He probably listens to old people music, like Pachelbel or something.”

“I’m surprised you even know who Pachelbel is.” Amy raised an eyebrow.

“Well, duh. I’m not completely uncultured. Just because I don’t have a fancy Art History degree doesn’t mean I don’t know boring stuff.”

“That’s, that’s not what… Art History is not boring!” Amy protested. “You get to study paintings and sculptures and learn about the history and craftsmanship…”

“And the sordid scandals and love affairs.” Charles interjected. “Did you know…”

“Shut it, Boyle.” Rosa cut him off. “No one wants to hear about dead people’s love affairs.” A dark look came into her eyes. “There are enough happening to live ones. Like this perp. Caught his wife cheating on him with the dog walker and took it out on poor Rover. The monster.”

“That is awful, and not where I wanted this conversation to go.” Jake looked stricken at the thought. “I was just suggesting that maybe Captain Holt and also Santiago need to broaden their musical tastes.”

“I have a very broad taste.” Amy protested again. “I listen to rap music!”

Jake looked absolutely stunned. “What? Since when?”

“Since I introduced her to Snow Tha Product.” Rosa called over.

“It was good! She is very talented.”

Jake still looked skeptical. “Was it explicit? I bet it was some kind of educational stuff. Probably rapping about planets or math.”

“Um…”

“Nah. You think I’d listen to that kind of garbage?” Rosa ignored Amy’s look.

“Did it have cursing? Did it have references to, gasp, sex?”

Amy did not dignify that with an answer. Rosa, however, did. “Yes and yes.” She seemed to be enjoying Amy’s discomfort.

Oh my god, I had no idea.” Jake looked positively gleeful. “What other dark secrets do you have, Detective?”

“Well, if I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets.” Amy muttered, turning back to her computer. The squad would be the death of her, if it was possible to actually die of embarrassment.


	2. Sparks Fly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, I'm not dead. I am very much alive. Just mad busy. God, the grind never ends. But I will finish this. For pride and for money!  
> Set sometime between "The Mattress" and "The Cruise".

Amy Santiago cannot dance. At all. She looks like a wet bird trying to get dry. But Jake finds her flapping about weirdly endearing.

“Hey.” He looks up to she her standing in front him. “Why are you moping?” She sounded concerned, despite the facts that her eyes were starting to look a little shiny. From the looks of things, Amy was three drinks in.

“You know, just stuff.” There was no way he was going to talk about his emotions right now, in Shaw’s, with his secret girlfriend. He was just going to repress them, like usual. Something that would be easier with a few more drinks.

Jake Peralta is not an alcoholic, but he appreciates that sometimes a bubbly buzz can take the sharp edge off of morbid thoughts.

However, Amy seems to have other ideas. “Well, when I am feeling bad about something, it’s really easy to lose touch with everything else.” She motioned for him to get up, emphatically shaking her hands. “Come dance with us!” Before he could launch more than a half-hearted protest, she had heaved him up and dragged him amongst the rest of their friends. Jake let himself be dragged along, leaving his glass at the bar.

“Whoo, yeah!” Terry and Gina cheer when he joins them.

“Come on Jake, show us your moves!” Charles also seems to suspect that something is up. He has been shooting Jake not-so-subtle worried looks all evening.

He can’t say no to them. Besides, when had Jake Peralta ever turned down a chance to work his magic on the dance floor?

Magic that seems to have missed Amy by light years. She steps on his toes twice, even though Gina has been trying to act as an unobtrusive barrier. Amy and she were so close, it wasn’t hard to imagine the beating Linetti’s little piggies were taking. Yet her expression of smug aloofness never wavered. Say what you will about her, Gina had toes of steel. Literally.

“It’s from all the dancing.” She had informed him when he’d mentioned it to her. “After my dance team’s first attempt taking in newbies, I invested in steel-toed dancing shoes.”

Jake wondered now if he should ask her where she got them. If things keep working out between him and Amy…

And there it is. The gloom came back, slowly 

“Wait, I need a refill.” She dance-walked her way back to the bar. Jake watched her, standing up as soon as Amy had downed her fourth drink. “I think I’m heading home, now.” He announces loudly to the entire squad.

“Aww, but it’s only ten!” Gina calls out.

“Ten already?” Amy’s voice is simultaneously high-pitched and stricken. It’s a good thing everyone knows that screwing up her sleep schedule makes her nervous, or they would be suspicious. “I have to go!” She waves a quick goodbye and bolts out the door, Gina and Rosa rolling their eyes in her wake.

Jake waits a couple minutes and says his goodbyes less hurriedly. “You know me, gotta catch up on the old DVR before tomorrow. No way am I going to let Daniels spoil anything with his big mouth.” He’s out the door before they can ask further questions.

Not a moment too soon. He’s barely turned the corner when a hand shoots out of the darkness to hook around his waist. Within seconds, he and Amy are hard-core making out.

“Again, I just want to be sure you are totally into this.” He clarifies when they come up for air. Sometimes, he gets nervous about them kissing when she’s been drinking, because he doesn’t know if it’s Amy or the drinks that want him.

“Again, it’s not like I become a completely different person when I’ve had a couple glasses.” Oh, damn, did he say it out loud? Amy continues. “and I give my total consent to this, and anything else you want to do.” She tries to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively but only ends up scrunching her face.

He kisses her scrunched-up mouth. It feels good. She is just as into it as he is, and it makes him feel better. Yeah, sometimes he felt like he wasn’t good enough, that she deserved someone who knew all those definitions on her word-a-day calendar, whose apartment had more than one towel. But when she was right in front of him, close enough to touch, it was enough. When they kissed, it made most of the self-doubt go away. Even that niggling voice that told him this relationship with his coworker and friend was not a good idea shut up when her lips were on his. All his thoughts collapse like a house of cards.

Just as they moved in for another lip-lock, the sky opened up and raindrops began to fall. They kiss anyway, 

“My place?” He asks when they come up for air. The storm shows no sign of stopping and they should probably move this indoors.

“Have you gotten rid of the rotten-milk smell in your fridge?”

Sure, the new mattress was nice, but the smell of decaying dairy was not.

“Your place?”

“Perfect.” 

***

“So what was bugging you tonight.” Amy cannot resist asking the question. Yes, they had just had sex, and yes, this feels a teensy bit underhanded, but she really does want to know. Jake’s one of the most incorrigibly insouciant individuals she knows. It takes a lot to get him morose.

“Ugh, do we have to do this now? How about round three?”

“I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But you usually listen when I’m freaking out about stuff. I just want you to know you can tell me stuff, too.” She’s blabbering now, embarrassed that she brought it up. But really, he has heard her go off about a lot of things. In fact, the entire squad can probably recite her ten top peeves from memory. Is it so wrong if she wants to know what makes him tick?

"Huh, when you put it that way, I'm surprised I didn't tell you sooner." Dammit, had she said that out loud? Jake continues. "Yeah, with all the dirt I have on you, I suppose I can trust you to keep my deep dark secrets." He was teasing, even though he knew Amy knew that was one of his defense mechanisms.

Amy just rolled her eyes. "For the last time, spending a high school party in the house library is not blackmail-worthy. If anything, it was a judicious exercise in judgement. Especially because the cops found out and everyone else got written up for underage drinking."

"Seriously, Ames, did you ever get lit in high school?"

"Yeah! Plenty of times..." She trailed off, eyes narrowing. "Oh, no Jacob Peralta..."

"Oooh, my full name. I'm so scared."

"...you are not making this about me. Why have you been so upset lately? You're always bouncing off the walls after a collar, and you've been after this guy for weeks."

Jake was trying to come up with another joke when he glanced into Amy's eyes. There was warmth there, and sincere concern. His stomach felt a bit funny and before he knew it, he had spilled the beans. "I feel insecure about our relationship."

"What?" AMy looked confused and shocked. Jake backtracked hastily.

"I mean, this isn't a relationship. I mean, it doesn't have to be a relationship. Unless you want it to be. Should we talk about this?" His eyes were starting to feel wet. Were his allergies acting up again?

"Jake, calm down." Amy reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, pilling him closer. "Deep breathes." They didn't look at each other for a few seconds, until Jake's breathing evened out. Then Amy spoke.

"For the record, I'm pretty sure it counts as a relationship after the third date."

'Technically, we've only been on one date."

"Oh please." Amy sat up and began to tick off her fingers. "That 

"Listen, buddy, I do like you, a lot, and I have for some time. I wouldn't be here if I didn't like you." HE couldn't keep from grinning at her impression of a tough cop.

"Fair enough. You're an independent woman who don't need no man!" God, could he ever be serious?

Amy grinned back, looking amused. "Damn straight. But I like having this one around." She kissed her boyfriend's cheek. "If anything, I don't know why someone as chill las you puts up with my obsessive ass."

"It's a very nice ass." He raised an eyebrow as his girlfriend facepalmed.

She groaned. "I knew I would regret it as soon as I said it, You know what I mean."

"Do tell," She was cute when she was flustered.

"The point is..." she ignored him completely "...I could be just as insecure, about just as many things. But I'm not. Because I know that for all your annoyingness..."

"Hey, we can't all have Marie-Kondo level closets, okay?"

"...you're mature where it matters. You can talk to me, okay? And I'll talk to you. Because if we're going to make this relationship work, we're going to have to trust each other." She finished triumphantly.

Jake thought confident Amy was kind of hot. No, really hot. "Nice speech. Did you come up with it just now?"

"Kind of. I came up with it during the week Gina decided that I was 'hopeless' and tried to 'educate' me about 'romance'". She knew she was overusing airquotes, but that week had been traumatic. Although she had made a ton of new friends on that dating app for book lovers. She'd even been invited to join the local fantasy book club. Terry is also a member, surprisingly. She's a little mad he hadn't invited her to it before.

"Oh. My. God." His face lit up like someone had given him an early birthday present. "Please tell me all the stories."

"I don't remember. It was a crazy week."'

Jake snorted. "You write everything down in your diary, which, knowing you, is probably color coded by decade."

The fact that he remembered made her heart feel funny. Sure, she could write it off as just his detective skills and memory for details, but she wanted to think it was something deeper.

"They are color coded by life stage."

"That sounds like Freudian nonsense."

"It's Erickson, actually. Freud is stupid."

"The worst. The guy completely ruined the budding field of psychology!"

"It's really hot when you talk nerdy, you know that?"

"Really. Well, then, let me regale you with the tale of the time Alexander Graham Fleming wrote the first James Potter book." Jake made his voice all throaty and nasal.

"Is that supposed to be a Scottish accent or an Italian one? And I can't even begin to mention everything wrong with that sentence."

"Why, I'm from Hogwarts College, luv. I spend hours poring over old manuscripts in those musty old caverns called libraries."

"If I kiss you, will you stop?"

"What's that, luv? I....mmph." His monologue was cut off when her lips closed over his.

***  
They were interrupted at 11:25, when Jake’s phone began playing Taylor Swift’s “Sparks Fly”.

“Okay, don’t be mad.” Jake got up to turn off the alarm, not meeting Amy’s eyes. “But that blaring noise your alarm makes kind of ruins the warm and fuzzy mood, so I put your phone on mute and set one myself.”

He looked nervously to gauge his sorta-girlfriend’s face. She looks shocked. Then she smiles.

“Aww, babe. You set an alarm for me?” She doesn’t sound mad, just surprised. “No one has ever set an alarm for me before.”

“Only you’d consider that a relationship milestone.” He’s smiling, too, though.

“Yes. It is considerate and perfect and I love it.” She gets out of the bed and gives him a kiss goodbye. “I should leave now. Got to get my beauty sleep.”

“Not that you need any. Because you are beautiful already.” God, she brought the corniest lines out of him. He wanted to facepalm.

“You’re beautiful too. Especially your butt.” She tried to waggle her eyebrows, but succeeded even less than the last time. She looked a bit like a pug with her face all wrinkled like that. A very adorable pug.  
Jake wasn’t about to tell her that, though. He just laughed at her line, and they exchanged another kiss before she left.

***

It was four in the morning when he realized that he was still thinking about the feeling of her hands in his. The way everything felt like fireworks when she was with him. So bright and beautiful.

He felt his stomach churning. He wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable. Something about her made his walls come down. That was an understatement. Every time she smiled, it was like someone had taken a tank to his walls.

No girlfriend, not even Sophia, had managed to get him to talk about his feelings like that. But when he was with Amy, he felt like it was okay to open up. That she wouldn’t think any less of him for it.

She had seen him do worse, though. Like that time he had called Holt “Dad”. 

Yup. There was no way anything he said could be more embarrassingly emotional than that.

___

At another apartment in Brooklyn, another detective also lay awake. Usually five-drink Amy was content with innuendo. She had never actually acted on any of it. Sure she had had one night stands, and there had been that guy she'd made out with the first (And last) time she had done weed in college, but nobody had made her feel this reckless before. Nobody else had made her want to grab them in an alleyway and smash her lips onto his.

But kissing him felt like fireworks. It was awesome, in the truest sense of the word (Amy hated it when people threw words around without considering the actual definition. It cheapened the meanings). It reminded her of spending the fourth of July with her family, all of them full and happy and watching the night sky ignite overhead. It made her feel content.

Which was a new feeling. She always had to be the best, always had something to prove. But with Jake, she knew he liked her just as she was. No improvements necessary. Hell, he even liked her dancing. No one liked her dancing.

Of course, these feelings were undercut with a rising panic that her sleep schedule was going further down the drain with each passing second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this is going to be really erratic, but I will have 120 chapters by the end of this year, all things willing. So don't abandon me yet!  
> I also took the idea of being "haunted" in a different direction. Dictionary.com defines haunted as also meaning "preoccupied with" or "obsessed", and I think that is an apt descriptor for how these two feel about each other right now.


	3. Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after season 3 "New Captain" and before "The Cruise" and "Karen Peralta", because in this chapter Jake wants Amy to think he was super cool in high school and not be aware of his poor sartorial choices. Also, they haven't said "I love you" yet.
> 
> (I edited a bit, because I originally made the characters slightly ooc because of personal trauma getting the better of me. Welp.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: my hair in high school looked exactly how Jake's did in that photo Amy finds at Karen's house. I too had a short frizzy hair cut that was supposed to look all sleek and cool but ended up making me look like a drowned muppet. *shudder* At least I didn't have a nose ring, lol.

It was date night once again, and tonight's theme was Throw-way-way-back. Granted, the 1950's were a time of severe racism, sexism and a misguidededly reactionary stance on "American values". 

But also, aesthetic.

Amy stood on the steps outside her apartment, smoothing out her skirt and touching her lips. It was a new look and she wondered if she was pulling it off. The flared red skirt and black blouse were a lot different from her usual flowy floral dresses.

A couple of friends had gone thrifting some weeks ago, and she had found the flared dress in a vintage shop. She had found the ensemble there and had been pressured into buying it by her friends. The conversation had gone something like this:

"I don't really know where I would wear this. It looks like something out of West Side Story." Amy had blushed when everyone complimented the way the colors looked on her.

"Great, so it will fit in with the rest of your apartment." Emily had said.

"I'll have you know doilies are very fashionable."

"Yeah, back when women had nothing better to do than buy lacey knick-knacks to feel like they had some direction in life. And when they cast white people as Latin@s." Nina muttered.

"The least you can do is buy some clothes from the same time period as your apartment décor. Except actually fashionable ones." Emily had insisted. "Besides, it looks nice on you."

In the end, Amy had emerged from the shop with two skirts, three blouses and necklace Nina swore was probably haunted by some dead lady named Edith. That night, she had jokingly texted Jake a pic of herself in the full old-timey get-up.

_Went on a time warp today_

_Wow. That is a great look.Very_

__I know, right? I have no idea where I am supposed to wear this, though._ _

__How about date night? We can go full fifties. I can break out my James Dean impression!!!_ _

__Oh, yes._ _

She had bought the lipstick on a whim this morning, while stopping at the drugstore to get ramen for a sick Kylie. She had to pass through the makeup section to get to the noodles, and had noticed a single tube of brilliant vermillion sitting behind a little tag labeled SALE. Amy knew she looked good in red. And it had been so long since she wore anything other than a professional pink. But why not? She's always enjoyed pairing her suits with bold colored shirts, and the lipstick had been a perfect match for the skirt she had bought. It was practically a sign. 

She presses her lips together one last time, smiling as Jake's car pulls up at exactly eight twenty-nine. He’s wearing a white tee and a different, less beat-up leather jacket over jeans. “How ya doing, sweetheart? Boy, this is going to be one terrific day." Of course he is wearing shades, despite the fact that the sun had set hours ago.

"It's nighttime, you know." Amy can't help correcting him as they drive off into the bright cityscape. 

"You're tearing me apart!" Jake exclaims exaggeratedly, flinging out his arms in mock hurt. Then the car swerves and he grabs the wheels hastily.

Amy rolls her eyes. "You're so much cuter than James Dean." She tells him with a smile.

"Really? I thought you'd be one of those nerds with a secret thing for deliciously dark bad-boy types." Jake teases.

Amy rolls her eyes, but can't help stiffening a bit.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jake looks worried. "Did I say something? Is it because I called you a nerd?" He's called her a nerd before, but maybe things are different now that they are dating.

"No! I mean, I like it when people call me a nerd." That much is true.

Jake smiles, his eyes still worried. "Of course."

"Seriously. It's nothing! It just reminded me a little of high school."

He cringes then. "Oh. Yeah, that couldn't have been fun for you."

Amy manages a smile. "Would you be surprised if I told you it was? The library was huge and the librarians all knew me. Also, I ruled at debate."

"Yeah, those idiots probably had no idea what hit them." He can just imagine a teenage Amy, laser focused and shaking a binder of facts big enough to intimidate even the most stalwart opponent.

"So it was kind of hard when my garbage ex-boyfriend started being a total dick."

There it was. She took a deep breathe and tells Jake everything. About how he kept trying to push her, calling her a repressed nerd and saying that she just needed "someone to be nice to her". It reassures Amy when Jake holds her hand while she is ranting.

"Yeah, I did want someone nice. But those Cro-Magnons confused being nice with being lascivious numbskulls who kept trying to touch me during algebra, even after I threatened to report them." She fumes angrily.

When she pauses to take a deep breathe, she realizes they have left Brooklyn and are driving along a wooded road. The two of them are going for a long drive, out of the city. As much as they loved Brooklyn, sometimes it was nice to just get away from the noise. To just be with yourself and the person you loved, even if you hadn't quite admitted that to them yet.

"That...." Jake proceeds to let out a string of curses that closely matches what Amy had been thinking during algebra. She smiles, feeling lighter. "Well, high school Jake wasn't brooding at all. In fact, I was friends with the super-popular crowd." He winced. "Until they got busted for partying, and thought I was the narc. They dropped me pretty quick after that."

"Seriously? That's so hot."

"What?"

"I mean, you were busting criminals even in high school!"

"But that's the thing, I didn't even do it."

"Really? That must have been rough, then."

"Yeah, but nowhere near what you went through. Oh, here we are!" His voice softens as they come to a stop at the end of a road. It's one of those overlook places, a parking lot and a couple of picnic tables at the end of the world. When they get out of the car, Jake rummages in the backseat before victoriously pulling out a blanket, a bottle of sparkling citrus water and two champagne glasses.

"No booze because we are responsible adults, and no orange soda because then I will not be able to go to sleep tonight. Sugar highs are a real thing, you know." He looks dubiously at the bottle before smiling. "Close enough, though." He pours them each a glass before adding. "Besides, its plenty sweet being here with you."

"Oh my god. That is so cheesy." Amy can't stop the smile from spreading across her face. "You are such a dork."

"Says she who organizes her paper clips by size and color."

"That's not dorky, it's adorable. I know because you only tease me about things you secretly find endearing."

"Touche. To Amy Santiago's adorable quirks."

"And to Jake Peralta's heartwarming statements."

Their breathes mist in the air as they watch the stars above their heads. You didn't get stars like this in the city. They move closer, cuddling as the cosmos unfolded above them. When Amy shivers just a bit, awed at the universe, Jake takes off his jacket and puts it over her shoulders. "Aren't you cold?" She asks. 

"Nah. My resting body temperature is two degrees below normal, anyway." He declares, smiling lopsidedly at her.

"Are you okay?"

"As long as I am here with you."

>"Aw. That's so sweet. But you should seriously see a doctor."

"Who do you think told me that my basal temperature was, quote 'disturbingly below normal'".

Amy drops the matter, making a mental note to look into this further when they get back. But tonight is not for investigations. It is for watching shooting stars and making wishes that may or may never come true. They can feel each other shift as they breathe, and lean over to kiss. The gentle kiss then deepens, until they are making out furiously. The air here is so clean and crisp and she feels so alive. It is perfect.

When they start to pack up, Amy becomes curious again. "So what was high school Jake really like?"

Jake gives an exaggerated shudder before laughing. "Whoa, baby steps Santiago. I'm not about to give you my life story on the third date."

"Well, this is technically not our third date." She begins to count off. "There was that night of the bet, the Johnny and Dora thing, the..."

"Point taken. But still, baby steps."

"No fair. I told you a sordid childhood story. You've got to give me something."

"I told you about the whole everyone-thinking-I-tattled thing."

"Fine, you know I was a nerd and you tease me mercilessly."

"You tease me about my messiness."

"Yeah, about adult Jake's messiness. I need some ammo about young Jake"

"For your information, I was the model of perfection."

"Uh huh." She puts on her seatbelt, quirking a disbelieving eyebrow.

He sighs, the breath ruffling her hair before he decides. "Fine. I was in a band,"

"Wait, seriously?"

"Yup. Full disclosure, though. I wasn't some cool Timberlake-esque hottie in high school."

"Whaaaaat." Amy drags it out teasingly. "I had absolutely no idea."

"You could sound a little more surprised. But..." 

"But what?"

"It wasn't even like a normal high school thing where every dude with a guitar thinks they are the next John Lennon. Like, it was a weird band."

"I'm kind of nervous to know what you mean by weird."

He sighs again, before looking at her very seriously. "It was a ska band."

"Oh." Amy pauses to let it sink in. "Thats actually not too bad."

Jake snorts. “No normal teenager joins a ska band, Amy. No teenager with half a brain thinks that it will help him get girls."

"Ouch." Amy cringes, thinking about high school Jake in a ska band, trying to hit on girls. "Well, you've gotten better since then, thank god." She leans over. "So what else did you get up to back then?"

"Uh uh. One story per date. I can't be dredging up all my childhood trauma in one night." He flashes her a grin. "That would take weeks."

"Fair enough." Amy reaches out, tangling their hands together. "Is it weird that I never minded being a goody-two-shoes nerd? I mean, I minded when people made fun of me for it, but I didn't mind it in itself. I liked reading history textbooks under the covers."

"Nah." Jake reassures her. "It's pretty sweet that you figured out yourself in high school." He pauses, considering something before looking at her concernedly. "I hope I've never made you feel like it was a bad thing."

"Nah." Amy replies. "You make fun of everyone, including yourself. We all know you use humor to cope with your feelings. The fact that you tease me so much is just because you feel so strongly about me."

"Trust you to turn the tables like that." Jake grins at her. "So I can still tease you when you go off about the proper way to organize menu-planning versus event-planning binders?"

"As long as I can riff on your shoddy taste in music."

"You take that back!"

Amy winks at him mischeviously. "Make me."

Then they are kissing, their lips and hands roving over each other in the car. Then someone pushes the gear out of position and the car starts to roll.

"AAAH! BRAKE! BRAKE!" The two of them scream as Jake yanks the gear back and the wheels freeze. Then they look at each other and start laughing.

"As much as I want to kiss you right now, I think we should go somewhere a bit less, um, rolly."

"My place, then. I'm pretty sure the last time we were at your place some of the lumps on the mattress moved by themselves."

"Also, your place smells like pretty candles. I like those autumn ones. Remind me of fresh cider."

"It reminds me of mulled wine."

"Reminds me of jumping in leaves."

"Or new fuzzy socks."

"Or cinnamon buns fresh from the bakery oven."

"Sunsets where the leaves and sky are the same color."

"And warm clothes right out of the dryer." Both of them say the last one at the same time, exchanging a warm smile.'

Then they see a deer jump out onto the road in the corner of their sightline, prompting Jake to brake suddenly.

"Eyes on the road, Peralta." Amy teases.

"Stupid nature. Why is there so much nature out of the city." It is less of a question, more of a complaint.

"I mean, we have random animals in Brooklyn, too. Or have you not seen the raccoons and pigeons?"

"No. Those are not natural. Those pigeons are the spawn of the devil. Nasty beasts." Jake scowls. "I swear they can smell fear."

"Probably not the only thing they smell." Amy flashes him a grin.

"No fair. I cleaned the car just for tonight."

"Yeah, and you'll probably have significantly less pigeon attacks now."

The two of them fall back into their old patterns, good-naturedly bickering until the trees and woodland give way to the concrete jungle.

It's midnight when Jake parks the car at Amy's apartment. They make their way up silently,

As soon as they are inside the door, Jake comes up behind her. "Guess who?" He mumbles into her hair as his arms come around her waist.

"Gee, whoever could be in my apartment at this time of night?" The words are sarcastic, but her voice is hushed in anticipation.

"Let's try that again." They come together, then, fitting together good. Like so good.

Despite the slight chill in the air, they are two flames burning side by side in their own timeless paradise..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of despise the bad-boy trope with a vengeance, and I appreciate B99 for making all its male protagonists so multi-dimensional and chill with their emotions (and making the only one who is uptight also gay, which flips its own set of stereotypes). Besides, on the show we usually see Amy reassuring Jake about the state of their relationship, and I kind of wanted to write one where she admits sometimes she feels a little insecure and he reassures her that he loves her just the way she is:)


	4. Come in with the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is early season 4, set during the whole "Coral Palms" situation. Part of being in witness protection means no contact with your loved ones, which means Jake and Amy haven't been able to talk to or see each other in months. Worst of all? Amy's just come out of jail only for Jake to have to go into hiding from the mob. So both of them are feeling down. BRING ON THE ANGST.

It was raining in Florida, which basically meant that the streets were flooded and Jake had no hope of making it to the storage unit. He barely had control of the ATV on a good day. Or his bicycle. Growing up in the city, he never really had much use for bicycles. And people in Florida had no respect for vehicle etiquette. He couldn't exactly crack the case if he cracked his skull in, or something. There was a plate of hot pockets on his lap and a mug of orange soda by his side. Amy wasn't the best cook, but at least she knew how eggs and vegetables worked. Ever since he got here, Jake had been subsisting on microwave meals and takeout. And it was borderline psychopathic to expect some poor delivery person to trek all the way here in this garbage weather.

He couldn't even work on the case. All the stuff was in the storage locker. Sometimes, when he stayed in there overnight he would try and keep himself motivated by thinking of the tangle of clues as a puzzle. Then he would remember all of Amy's puzzle-solving tics. The way she tapped the eraser end of number 2 pencils against her nose, that squinty face she would make while staring at the whiteboard, with the little wrinkle in between her eyebrows that was such a soft place to kiss. Then he would usually start tearing up. He missed her being there, all smart and determined.

Resigned, he was staring at the rain beating against his window. He wasn't in the mood for TV comedies, or funny internet videos. Everything sucked. Even the sky was crying.

If he was being completely honest with himself, one of the reasons he spent so much time in the storage unit is because it was the one place where he could see Amy's face. Marshal Haas had been insistent that none of the stuff in the Coral Palms house could be traced back to his old life. Their first day in Florida, she had given him and Holt cash and told them to hit up the yard sales. "Florida is full of old people, which is code for almost-dead people. Nobody wants to keep their deceased grandfather's fart chair lying around."

Sure, he could check Facebook, or LinkedIn. But what if his location got noted? He wasn't supposed to have any contact. He also had the nagging feeling that Holt was always watching him. There were times when he practically heard Holt's voice telling him not to do stupid stuff (Usually when he was in the hot tub. The hot tub was the catalyst for many poor decisions).

He felt like screaming. He was going out of his damn mind down here in crocodile country. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the slightly chemical smell of Florida rain and began to sob. This wasn't new. He had cried almost every day. Through his tears, he thought about going back home. Back to Amy.

~~~~~

It was raining in Brooklyn. Amy Santiago was sitting at home, watching the city bustling through another Sunday. She had Chipotle containers open on her table and a mug of tea next to it. Sure, the burrito bowls didn't come anywhere close to her mom's cooking, but it was close enough to give her some sense of comfort. And lavender tea was supposed to be soothing. Her nerves needed soothing. It had been months since she had seen Jake, even longer since they had done normal couple things, like holding hands or rewatching movies for the tenth time. First she had gone undercover, now he was in witness protection; It was like they couldn't catch a damn break. She still had so much to tell him.

Work was a welcome distraction, but it wasn't the same with both her work father and her actual boyfriend gone. It just didn't feel right, watching CJ swivel around and around. Captain Holt (he was still her captain) would never condone such undignified behavior. When they had first met, Jake would purposely spin around and around in place whenever Holt was in the bullpen just to annoy him. He still did it on occasion, but it was funny, now. And Holt got him back even better.

Sometimes when she heard a funny joke or saw a misspelled board outside a restaurant, she could hear his laugh. That exuberant, slightly nasal sound that she knew by heart. In all honesty, he was probably calling Florida "crocodile country" when it was actually home to alligators. She had explained the difference to him before he boarded the plane, but he was probably ignoring basic scientific fact for the sake of alliteration. That would be just like him. She missed his stupid sense of humor. She missed him just being there, all warm and comforting.

Witness protection was the worst. Marshal Haas had told her she would be able to write letters, but a few pages every few months was barely enough to hold all the feelings and happenings. Even with her smallest cramming handwriting (the kind she used in school when there was a page limit), she could barely fit a week's worth of sentiments on a single double-sided sheet.

She was just so tired. Tired of the stress and the worry. She wouldn't trade being a cop for anything, but sometimes it was just so hard. If she ever got a hold of Figgis...she wouldn't do anything illegal, but he best believe that no one threatened the people she cared about and got away with it.

Amy remembered how stoic Rosa had been when Pimento had to disappear. She wondered if the other woman had cried in the privacy of her own home. As she watched the rain pour down outside, the tears she had been holding back came out, first a trickle then a storm. Amy didnt cry, couldn't cry outside, but here, in her own dining room, there was no one to think the worse of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By some strange happenstance, both POVs are exactly 503 words. I hope this tugged a few heartstrings, at least:)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I am terrible at updating on time but I want to see how far I can take this lark. In true Peraltiago fashion, I have a bet currently running with someone about whether or not I can finish this by the end of the year. Our rules are the following: 1) any songs she releases in 2019 are not required 2) Covers are not required 3) Deadline is December 31st of this year 4) No major character deaths 5) No Smut (sorry not sorry, lol).
> 
> I've got $25 and my pride riding on this. Wish me luck!


End file.
